


Strangers At Dinner

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Manes Deserves Nice Things, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Family Dinners, Fluff, Found Family, Jesse Manes Being an Asshole, M/M, Minor Violence, POV Alex Manes, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Alex really doesn't want to have Christmas dinner with his family but doesn't know how to get out of it. Could Michael Guerin's Craigslist ad offering his services to ruin Christmas dinner be the salvation he's after?
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 55
Kudos: 197





	Strangers At Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [christchex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/gifts).

> Hello! Back in October-ish, I asked readers who wanted festive prompts to enter a 'raffle' of sorts for five prompts. christchex won the prompt for **_Bah Humbug_** and this is the result!

"You know you will always, always be welcome at ours for Christmas, Alex. You really don't need to spend any time with any of them if you don't want to. You know, that, right?"

Alex sighs, his breath fogging up the Crashdown table where he's dropped his head face first, letting the soothing feel of Liz's fingers through the back of his hair take some of the tension from his shoulders. He has nothing to do with his family anymore. Alex hasn't seen his dad since he visited him when he was recovering after his surgery, and he can't have spoken to any of his brothers in six months. He doesn't miss any of them; not for the disdainful abuse from his father nor for the disinterested mockery from his siblings. As far as Alex is concerned his duty to his family ended with the death of his mother a few years back. So why does one lousy guilt-tripping voicemail from his father make Alex feel obliged to spend Christmas with any of them?

"I know. I know I don't," he agrees as he sits back up, looking at Liz with a tired smile. He _does_ know. He just wishes that little wheedling voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his dad would _quit_.

"You have your own place now, which looks _amazing_; you could just have your own Christmas there if you don't want a big deal," Liz adds, reaching out again to pet at his hair in sympathy. He must look rough. Maybe drowning his family woes with Kyle until three this morning wasn't his best plan. Though Alex takes comfort in the fact that when he'd stumbled through from his bedroom to find Kyle being softly mauled by Winston on the couch, Kyle looked far worse than he felt. He's glad they moved their drinking from bars back to his cabin, at least.

Coming back to Roswell to finish the last few months of his military career after his accident would not have been possible had Jim Valenti not left him that cabin. When the Valentis had heard he was coming home, they and Alex's other friends had rallied around, done everything they could to build him a home. Alex had been dropped off by an Airman he still doesn't remember the name of outside the cabin expecting a long period of renovation ahead of him, and instead had walked into a ready-made home.

There are adaptations throughout the one-level property, so that if he needs to get around without his prosthetic, he can. The bathroom has both a shower cubicle with special grips in the wall that will help him keep upright, and a deep bath that Alex can spend hours soaking in when he gets phantom pains in his leg. The Ortechos had even stocked his kitchen cupboards a little, and his fridge when he opened it had been stuffed with half his favorites from the Crashdown that he just needed to reheat. Alex still has the Post-It that had been stuck to the top of one of the dishes that reads _welcome home_.

Maria and Mimi had shown up on his doorstep the day after he'd settled in with a wriggling beagle puppy he's named Winston, and Alex's heart has been owned ever since. He has his found family. Alex has no commitment to anyone else aside from sharing a surname. So why does he feel like he _has_ to see any of his family this Christmas?

"I should go home," Alex says, groaning, thinking about all the work he should really get done today. Since leaving the Air Force and starting up his own coding business, his life has felt pretty hectic. He needs to keep going to establish himself even if so far he's done pretty well for himself. Even if right now all Alex wants to do is crawl back into bed.

"Do I need to drive you?" Liz asks, with a raised eyebrow that has all the sternness of every mother figure Alex has ever known. He adores her for it, but pushes himself to his feet and sags into a hug, shaking his head against her shoulder.

"I'm fine. Honestly."

Liz sighs, and while still clutching on to him reaches for Alex's unfinished coffee, pushing it into his hand. Alex stifles a giggle for the way one of her antennae almost pings in his face, still thinking she looks just as at home in the Crashdown serving milkshake and fries as she does in her lab when he visits, despite her protests otherwise.

"_Drink_," she insists, which Alex does, gulping back the slightly too cold bitter black coffee and shuddering for it, pushing the mug back into her hand in thanks.

"I'll be fine," Alex says, kissing her on the cheek before checking he has everything, waving over his shoulder as he leaves.

* * *

Kyle is at least upright on the couch when Alex returns, bleary-eyed and green-looking but at least alive. Winston is curled up by his side asleep against his thigh, the two of them apparently watching some kind of Hallmark Christmas movie.

"Coffee?" Alex asks knowing he is going to need about a gallon if he is going to get any work done today.

"Please."

Alex winces for the gravel in Kyle's voice, quickly putting on a coffee pot and taking him through some Advil. "Did you eat?"

"Not yet."

"Well. Why didn't you help yourself?" Alex asks in surprise. Kyle has been helping himself to Alex's kitchen ever since he got back, reinstating himself as his best friend and taking all the perks that come with that friendship. Kyle even has his own set of bedding in a chest beneath the coffee table for how often he ends up on Alex's couch.

"Not long been awake."

"You're not working today?"

"I've got an overnighter," Kyle says, groggy as he stumbles through to the kitchen with Winston in tow.

"I'm making you something to eat," Alex says looking him up and down, pushing Kyle on to a stool when he wobbles.

"I'll be fine."

"You will. You're going to eat this, take a shower, and sleep some more."

"Thanks _dad_."

"And you're going to keep quiet while I'm _working_," Alex adds as he takes out some bacon from the fridge. Eggs, bacon, and toast; not a bad breakfast any day, but for the look on Kyle's face, Alex might as well be offering him a banquet.

"Can do."

"Liz agrees with you, by the way," Alex says as he fires up the gas on the stove, preparing the pans he needs.

"About?"

"Me, not needing to see my family at Christmas."

"Alex. Everyone within a twenty-mile radius of this place—and probably further afield—knows you don't need to see _them_ at Christmas."

"I know. I just… also don't know."

Kyle makes a noise behind him that Alex thinks is him grumbling under his breath about him being stubborn, choosing to ignore it.

"I could just go away somewhere, I suppose," Alex says, knowing he won't. He's left it too late to not be charged the earth to go anywhere. And although he's really not bothered by the idea of Christmas itself, Alex doesn't really like the idea of waking alone in some fusty motel room in the middle of nowhere, just to escape a family dinner he doesn't need to go to anyway.

"You could come to ours, Liz's, Maria's. I'm sure half your old base would invite you to dinner too, if you wanted them to."

"I know."

"You know what the alternative is," Kyle says then, stretching then apologizing to Winston for nudging him with his foot.

"What?" Alex asks as he snags off a bit of bacon, blowing on it before dropping it into Winston's bowl.

"Check Craigslist."

"For?"

"For one of those _need help ruining your family's Christmas?_ things you see every year, because there are hundreds of shitty families that could outshit yours. Now _there's_ an image," Kyle adds to himself, looking even more green.

Alex laughs, flipping the last piece of bacon as he wills the eggs to cook faster, moving across the kitchen to put on some toast.

* * *

This is _insane_.

Alex looks across the Wild Pony to receive a reassuring wink and wave from Maria, smoothing down the front of his shirt and fighting the urge to _run_. This is Kyle's fault, for putting ideas in his head when he was vulnerable—and hungover. Though the thought of the outraged look on his father's face is what is really keeping Alex going through this charade.

The Craigslist ad is still fresh in his mind, still making the corners of his mouth twitch up for reading it. _Michael Guerin_ sounds hilarious, charming, boisterous, and like he's been through the ringer with his own family issues. Alex debated for a good hour about texting the number he'd found when he was _supposed_ to be working. And ever since, he and Michael have been in this really weird but _nice_ back and forth as they've traded the necessary details of Michael's offer, and what Alex needs to get through this Christmas family dinner from hell.

Has it really only been two days since he'd texted Michael? Alex quickly scrolls through his phone to check, which takes a while; he and Michael have been messaging a _lot_. He is _excited_ about this in a way, the thought of any kind of revenge on his father feeling like delayed rebellion. Though there are flutters in his stomach that he chooses to ignore the origin of. He will _not_ allow himself to fear his father's retribution in any way, he no longer has a hold on him and absolutely no right to make him nervous. Alex knows all the exits in his old family house so that if things turn ugly, he can quickly get away. And with this _stranger_ in tow as a safety net, well. Everything is going to be _fine_. It _is_.

"Alex Manes?"

Alex almost cricks his neck for the calling of his name looking up to see a smirking face with beautiful eyes staring back at him, and a bounce of curls that Alex has the urge to get his fingers through _now_. He clears his throat and goes to stand, but _Michael_ waves to stop him, sliding into the seat opposite.

"Michael?" Alex asks pointlessly, now flustered for entirely other reasons than residual fear of his father. Michael would have to be _beautiful_, wouldn't he?

"That's me," Michael replies smiling easily as he occupies _all_ of the space of his seat, arm slung over the side of the booth, shirt half unbuttoned, which is _weird_ for being the middle of winter even if it's not all that cold outside.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"Sure?"

Alex knows Maria's eyes are on him anyway so gestures with his beer bottle and asks for two. "So."

"So," Michael echoes, his smile making Alex's stomach do strange little flips. _Focus_, Alex.

"I wanted to thank you again for even agreeing to do this," Alex says, swallowing with difficulty and having to take a swig of his beer.

"Hey. Christmas can be hell."

"It really can," Alex agrees, thinking of enforced family Christmasses in the past and shuddering. "Though I really should ask why it is you're so willing to do this instead of spending time with your own family?"

Michael opens his mouth to speak but is stopped by Maria sliding their beers on to the table, giving Alex a look that says _I'm here if you need me_. "Well," Michael says, "I just didn't feel like yet another year of _why haven't you settled down yet, Michael?_ And _you can't spend Christmas alone, Michael._ And _why do you always have to be so difficult, Michael?_"

"Sounds like your family aren't that much better than mine," Alex says, feeling that his suspicions over Michael's family circumstances are now being confirmed.

"Oh. My family is _great_," Michael says with a dismissive wave that throws Alex. "They're just _too_ great. Too _much_, you know?"

Alex doesn't know what to say. "I guess."

Michael nods. "My brother and sister, we're all adopted. Max and Isobel got adopted together, not all that far from here, actually. I didn't; bounced around a lot as a kid. Got a full scholarship at UNM, then did a Ph.D. at Massachusetts. Took a year out to travel a little, then came back, started teaching part-time. Still working on a second Ph.D. where I'm teaching now—New Mexico State, in Carlsbad. My life's _great_. But they—Isobel, and Max—they still act like there's something missing from it."

"That sounds—"

"Pretty idyllic," Michael finishes for him with a knowing wink. "It's good. I just don't want another family dinner with Max and Isobel's parents giving me these sympathetic looks like I'm missing out on something. I'll have a Christmas dinner with Max and Isobel anyway; not like I'm giving up on dinner altogether."

"Then, if you do this with me, I'm not stopping you from doing something you want to?"

"Absolutely not," Michael says, taking a swig of his beer. "So, tell me, Alex. What do you need?"

"My father is a homophobic, judgemental, abusive bastard," Alex bites out, relief seeping through him for saying the words out loud.

"Great start."

"And my brothers, Harry, Robert, and Flint, they might not necessarily be any of those things, but they're still dicks. We're a military family—"

"So, family obligations, expectations, prejudices. Got it," Michael says, smiling at him in sympathy.

"Basically. I grew up in a household where I was always wrong for being different, and no matter how much I tried to conform, or fit in, I couldn't. So, I stopped trying. My family hate that."

"Then, why bother with dinner at all? Not that I'm trying to talk you out of this, obviously," Michael adds.

Alex thinks about what he needs to say, taking his time before answering. He leans down, knocking his knuckles against his prosthetic. "I was in an accident. Lost my leg below the knee. I didn't—I _don't_ want to be treated any differently because of that. But even that happening, even with my _medals_, the three tours I've completed; none of that was ever enough for my dad, because he doesn't like who I am, or what I am. I don't want anything to do with any of them, and yet, I still feel like I owe them one final family dinner."

"With it being Christmas, and all."

"Exactly."

"Going out with a bang," Michael adds with laughter in his eyes and a look that has Alex shifting in discomfort. He's been trying to tell himself that the tone of his and Michael's messages hasn't been flirtatious at all, and yet here they are. _He_ can't stop looking at Michael, and Michael isn't hiding how blatantly he's looking at him either. Alex feels _comfortable_ with Michael in a way he tells himself he shouldn't after what is really only a few minutes in his company. Alex has never believed in instant attraction to anyone, but _this_ feeling? He wants _more_. _Now_.

"Something like that."

"So," Michael says, dropping his head just enough so that when he glances up it's through his eyelashes making him look coy, and knowing, and innocent all at the same time. "What's the plan, Alex?"

"The plan," Alex says, bracing against the table and breathing out slow to steady himself, "is to piss off my dad."

"By?"

"Showing up to Christmas dinner loved up and in love, being exactly all the things my father has always feared I was going to be," Alex blurts out, fascinated by the way Michael's eyes crinkle as he smiles.

"Are you asking me to be your boyfriend for Christmas?"

Alex's heart dances, his stomach flutters, and his thoughts go places they really shouldn't. "_Yes_," he says before he can change his mind, excitement rushing through him in a wave.

"Well," Michael says giving him another once-over, then making Alex's heart stop when he _winks_. "I'm sure I can do that."

* * *

He is _not_ pacing. Alex slams his front door closed having done several laps of his porch and now returns to the circuit he's been trailing through inside the cabin. This is a terrible idea, this is going to be a _disaster_. But more than anything, Alex is worried that Michael might not even show. Which he _will_; Michael already messaged to say he is on his way, so there is no need to be so nervous. Alex ignores what other things he could be nervous about.

Alex stops at a mirror checking his appearance, still half-tempted to change yet again, wear some of the goth garbs of his youth that were so successful at putting a scowl on his father's face. Though that isn't really who he is now. The reflection staring back at him is one he _likes_; soft plaid shirt with faded blue jeans and thick, heavy boots that make him feel solid. This is who he is; he is done pretending he is anything he isn't.

The sound of an approaching car sets Alex's heart off racing again. He grabs his jacket as he rushes outside locking up before Michael has even stopped. Michael waves at him from his truck beckoning for him to join him. All Alex can repeat to himself as he climbs in is _don't mess this up_.

"Good morning, Alex," Michael says cheerfully as he spins the truck around one-handed, perfectly at ease.

"Good morning."

"Ready to cause chaos in your family home?"

"I think so," Alex agrees, laughing.

"You gonna give me an address, or directions?"

"That way for now," Alex replies, pointing up the road.

"So. We should probably set some boundaries, work out how this is gonna work, that sort of thing," Michael says as they drive, smiling at him before turning his attention back to the road.

"Okay. Yes, we should."

"If we're _loved up and in love_, how does that look? Are we the kind of couple who creep people out because we can't stop breathing in each other's air, or are we politer in company?"

Alex _might_ have put a little thought into how much he likes the idea of an excuse to kiss Michael, even if they really have only known each other a matter of days. Though now he doesn't know how any of this is going to play out. Michael smiles at him in encouragement, and Alex's brain refuses to cooperate.

"I suppose we could just… see how it goes?"

"You don't wanna tell me to keep my hands to myself?" Michael says with a wink that puts fresh flutters in Alex's stomach.

"I don't know what to tell you."

Michael's look for him then is one of concern. He checks the directions with Alex again then turns just enough to get a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "We'll do this however you want, Alex. If you tell me now you want to forget the whole thing, or that we show up pretending we're in the middle of an argument, or whatever, we'll do it. No pressure for anything."

"I can't believe you're even offering to do this for nothing," Alex says with a nervous laugh, wringing his hands in his lap.

"Well, not _nothing_," Michael says, "I mean, there will be _food_ at this dinner from hell, right?"

"You'd give up your afternoon to spend time with a stranger's family for a dinner?"

"I'd give up my afternoon for many things, Alex," Michael says, winking at him, "and you aren't exactly a stranger now, are you? I feel like we've been talking nonstop since you answered my ad."

"True."

"And besides," Michael says, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, "it's not for _nothing_. This is my weird way of giving back at Christmas, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't count how many awkward Christmas dinners I've wished someone would save _me_ from. Which, technically this year, you _are_."

Alex tells his heart to stop doing the dance it's doing. "So. How many Christmas dinners have you rescued like this?"

Michael smiles, a small, almost sad thing. "This is my first."

"Seriously?"

"I'm very experienced at messing up dinners," Michael says, laughing.

"I didn't mean—"

"C'mon, Alex. Don't worry. Let's go piss off your dad."

They talk a little more on the drive over, Alex learning that Michael volunteers sometimes at a children's home near the college he works at. In turn, Alex tells him about Winston, which makes Michael's face light up.

"Maybe I can pop my head in to say hi when I take you home," Michael says with hope in his voice. "I keep telling myself I'll get a dog, but it's not happened yet."

"Of course," Alex says, telling his mind to stop running the scenarios it is.

"Sweet."

Alex points for Michael to turn down the road leading to his dad's feeling sick to his stomach. Michael cuts the engine outside the house and turns, hesitating before taking Alex's hand.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Michael asks, concern written across his face.

"I do. I am."

Michael nods, his face splitting into a smirk that catches Alex in the throat. "So. I'm gonna lean in," he says, slowly crowding Alex's space until there are only a few inches between them. "Make it look like I'm kissing you before we even get inside. I'm fairly sure I saw a curtain twitch."

"You probably did," Alex agrees, swallowing awkwardly.

Michael's eyes dart over his face. Alex tries and fails not to let his gaze settle on Michael's mouth. "You ready?" Michael asks doing the same before he bites his lip and pulls back. Alex tells himself he doesn't feel bereft.

"Yes."

Alex climbs out of the car, smiling the entire time Michael grins at him adoringly, _giddy_ when Michael slips his hand into his.

"Gonna introduce me to your family, Alex?" Michael says pressing a kiss to his cheek before nodding to the door.

Alex squeezes his hand, tugging him along.

* * *

The atmosphere inside the house is _painful_. Alex fights with his instincts to stand to attention for how on edge everyone is once he's made his introductions. Thankfully there isn't too much small talk to make before dinner since of course his dad even has that planned with military precision. Michael's hand is a warm comfort on his lower back for the few seconds they have before being called to eat, wilfully ignoring the glares from Alex's brothers.

"Well. I hope everyone is hungry," his father says, glaring around the table as though daring them not to eat. Michael has already incensed him by pulling his chair close to Alex and refusing to sit opposite him. Alex isn't sure how he's going to get through even a mouthful of their dinner for the urge to laugh.

"Jesse, this all looks _amazing_," Michael says as he stretches, surveying the table with one arm slung around the back of Alex's chair.

"Good," Jesse replies, livid. Alex bites his cheek so he can't snort.

"Extra potatoes for you," Michael adds spearing three more onto Alex's plate. Michael isn't to know that roast potatoes are his favorite but the implication that he does know isn't lost, because everyone else's eyes around the table fall to the gesture, narrowing.

"Thanks."

"So. _Michael_," Jesse says as he folds out a napkin across his lap, "what is it you do?"

"I teach a little math, mainly the basics in engineering. Finishing a Ph.D. in mechanical engineering right now."

"Specialty?"

"Energy efficiency."

"Michael already has a Ph.D. in vehicular engineering," Alex says with pride that Michael preens for.

"A little young to be teaching, aren't you?" Flint asks with a sneer.

"I suppose your family must be wealthy enough to allow you to indulge in such things. We're a military family," Jesse says gesturing around the table. "The only help we have is ourselves."

"Oh," Michael says, shaking his head and talking in between bites, "no, no family. I got no one helping me out either. Started from the bottom, worked my way up. Worked _hard_. I used to help out at a scrap yard fixing cars to get me through college, even on a full scholarship."

Jesse wants to be mad at that, but can't.

"Where do you live?" he asks instead. Alex knows that look. He's looking for _anything_ to look down on Michael for, and while that is exactly why Michael is here—to distract his dad from making _his_ life hell—the thought of anything horrible for Michael makes Alex want to lash out.

"In Carlsbad. Well. Actually, I'm thinking of moving back here to be closer to Alex," Michael says, "our campus is talking about a merger of programs with UNM. It would make sense for me to move."

"Really?" Alex asks, playing the game but also hoping Michael really might be moving nearer. He would _love_ to get to know Michael beyond this urge to get his hands through his curls, and everywhere, really. He obviously wants that _too_, but, Alex is trying not to let his thoughts wander.

"Surprise," Michael says with a wink, "Merry Christmas."

"That's the best news," Alex says softly, and because of that _game_ he leans in to kiss him. Michael smiles against his mouth, as Alex feels the tension in the room bristle for everyone watching them.

"Well. Engineering can be a worthwhile career," Jesse says eventually, looking at Alex in disgust. "Far more useful than _playing_ on the internet, like Alex does."

"Are you kidding?" Michael says, scoffing in dismissal. "Alex's work is taking _off_. Seriously. The future is _all_ about code-breaking, and coding in general. Way our world is right now? There are too many places on the brink of war, too many powerful people oppressing everyone else just so they can stay disgustingly rich. People like Alex are gonna change all that, prevent all kinds of bad things happening."

"Well—"

"I mean it," Michael insists, waving his fork around enthusiastically. "The whole world's gone cyber, right? The internet is where it _all_ happens. We wanna stop wars before they even start, find the best ways to create energy efficiency for everyone, fight this climate crisis we've made for ourselves so everyone benefits and not just people with money. Believe me. Work like Alex's is going to be _everything_."

Alex would preen if he wasn't so anxious to hear if Michael really thinks these things or has just rehearsed his words for this dinner. Michael's smile suggests the former, beaming at him with open pride.

"I think Alex is a hero," Michael adds, leaning into his side, "not just for all his service, and what he gave up for his country. Just because of who he _is_."

"You might be biased," Alex says, off-balance since he is _not_ used to hearing praise.

Michael takes his hand since Alex has had to abandon his cutlery for all of Michael's kind words, kissing the back of it. "Of course I'm biased," Michael says, "doesn't mean I don't mean any of it."

Alex swallows, begging himself not to get carried away.

"So. Are you staying in that cabin with Alex this evening?" Jesse asks.

Alex quickly darts a look around the table. Harry and Robert haven't said a single word to him aside from a mumbled hello, and from the looks of things they aren't about to start now.

"Of course," Michael says with a soft, loving look for Alex that once again delays him taking a mouthful of food. "We're having our own Christmas just the two of us tonight. And all day tomorrow."

"You don't have family of your own?"

"Oh," Michael says with a rueful laugh, "I already inflicted my family on Alex two days ago. I think we deserve a little time to ourselves."

Alex can almost make himself believe it. Michael's told him so much about his brother and sister already, pride evident in every word of his texts. "And we have New Year with them as well," he says, continuing to play the role hoping Michael won't mind him dragging his siblings into this.

"Isobel always has the biggest, most extravagant New Year parties," Michael says with an eye roll and a sag of his shoulders that makes Alex thinks there is truth to his words. "Gonna be yet another houseful."

"It'll be great," Alex says, as though he's saying it in reassurance.

"It'll be even better this year for you meeting everyone in person. I can't wait to show you off. Been talking everyone's ear off about you for years."

"How long have you two been together?" Flint asks in suspicion; Alex can see him doing the math.

"I've been writing to Alex for, what, is it almost three years now?" Michael asks, looking to Alex for confirmation.

"That sounds right."

"You came to visit me that first time, and I didn't want to let go of you again," Michael says looking at Alex with such adoration he can't even _think_.

"You came back here to _visit_ him?" Jesse asks, glaring at Alex down the table.

Alex only nods.

"So if you've been together all this time, where were you for Alex's accident, and recovery?" Harry asks, with a snide snort.

"I could ask the same of you. All of you," Michael says, glaring around the table. "We video called, text, messaged, every damn day. Where were you?"

Alex, feeling out of his depth for the way everyone looks elsewhere for Michael's words, turns enough to run his hand down Michael's back, and even kisses his shoulder, mumbling loud enough for everyone to hear, "it's okay."

"It is _not_," Michael retorts under his breath like this is an old argument between them, purposefully looking at everyone around the table in reproach.

"Michael. It is."

"Soon as I get a ring on your finger people can stop questioning if I'm your family or not," Michael adds, squeezing over Alex's ring finger. It's perfect, because the entire room bristles with indignation. It's also taunting, because Alex lets his mind wander just enough to imagine that happening.

"Soon," Alex echoes, smiling when Michael drops their foreheads together and sighs before pulling back.

The silence that follows really is deafening. Alex enjoys the peace, enjoys having Michael beside him, and enjoys his dinner. His dad might be a dick, but he can cook.

The conversation turns to other things, Jesse singing the praises of all of Alex's brothers purposefully excluding him. Michael interjects every few words to sing _Alex's_ praises riling his father up further. Alex keeps eating because if he doesn't he'll just sit here grinning at him. He's not used to having anyone defend his corner to his father; Alex _loves_ the confusion on Jesse's face for it.

"I notice you didn't bring gifts," Jesse says when they are all finished eating. The tone is accusatory, and hostile; despite no gifts being given to Alex either.

"Oh," Alex says, shaking his head, "I made donations to various LGBT charities in your names instead. I thought that would be more practical."

He has as well. One lump sum payment _from the Manes' family_ to the youth LGBT center in the middle of Roswell. Alex thrives on watching the way Jesse's skin seems to crawl.

"What a sweet gesture," Michael says, gazing at Alex.

"That is _enough_."

The entire room erupts before Alex can even take stock of it, Jesse pushing back from the table and gesticulating calling him every perverse name under the sun and pointing at the door. Before Alex can even react Michael is on his feet yelling and gesturing right back, shoving his brothers out the way to get to Jesse, who squares up with a look on his face that says _you wouldn't dare_.

Alex winces for the crack he hears, seconds later watching the blood start to pour from his father's broken nose.

"Your son is a good, kind man, better than any one of you could ever dream of being, you _ass_," Michael seethes, cradling his hand. Alex has always thought his dad was hard-headed; he hopes there aren't any broken bones.

"Alex is not my _son_," Jesse seethes, snatching the cloth Robert shoves in his hand and pressing it beneath his nose. "He is a—"

Michael launches himself at Jesse again, and Alex springs to action. He hauls Michael up over his shoulder, adjusting his stance since he's not carried _anyone_ since getting his prosthetic, then carries him outside. He guides Michael into the passenger seat not daring to look at him then climbs into the driver's side, quickly spinning the truck around and driving away.

"I'm sorry; I think I went too far," Michael says, still cradling his hand.

"I'm sorry you hurt your hand," Alex says, watching the way he raises and prods at it. There are no breaks, but he's fairly sure it's going to bruise up.

"I guess that wasn't quite what you had in mind, huh?"

"My dad was pissed," Alex says, joyful laughter beginning to bubble up in him. "That's pretty much _all_ I wanted."

"I don't think he'll be asking you back," Michael adds, wincing as he looks at him as if to say, _I hope that's okay?_

"_Good_."

"Yeah?"

"_Yes_," Alex insists, then nods at Michael's hand. "We need to get some ice on that."

The drive back to his is quiet, Alex replaying everything that's just happened in delight. Michael is right; none of that was quite what he'd envisioned, but he wouldn't change a second of it. Not that he can now, of course.

Winston dances around Michael's feet when Alex lets him in, pushing his head into Michael's good hand when he bends to pet at him. Alex folds over a dish towel several times before scooping ice into it and then bundling it up to press into Michael's hand. He grips lightly, turning it over, running his thumb gently over Michael's knuckles, looking up to check he isn't in too much pain.

"Do you want coffee, or something?" he asks, hoping Michael won't find reasons to rush off.

"Honestly? I feel like I could do with something a little stronger," Michael replies, flexing his fingers then repositioning the ice over his knuckles.

Alex nods, taking two glasses and a bottle of scotch from a cupboard then gesturing for Michael to follow him through to the lounge.

"Alex," Michael says as he sits, looking around him with the softest smile on his face, "this place looks _great_."

Alex pours, telling Michael about Jim Valenti leaving him the cabin, and his friends rallying around to make it perfect for when he came home. He tells Michael about his found family, and his hopes with his business, how he plans on making Roswell his home and putting the awful memories he has of this place here with his family behind him.

Michael in turn tells him more about his family, his Ph.D., Isobel's New Year party which really is a thing, and that it is likely he really will be moving campus early in the new year.

"You know, if you wanted, you _could_ come to this New Year party with me," Michael says after a third glass of scotch, both of them comfortable and curled into one another on the couch like they've known each other far longer than a matter of days.

"Your sister won't mind you showing up with a complete stranger?" Alex asks, smiling for the way Winston has claimed Michael, his head in his lap and already fast asleep.

Michael nods, leaning carefully so as not to disturb Winston to push his glass on to the table, then taking Alex's to do the same. "Well. You wouldn't have to come as a stranger, Alex. Not if you didn't want to."

Alex tells himself not to get his hopes up. "No?"

"We have a few days before New Year to get to know each other better," Michael adds, clearing his throat and moving a little closer, resting his hand on Alex's thigh.

"I'd like that."

"You would?"

"I would."

"_Good_," Michael says, laughing in relief as he squeezes his thigh. "Because, I gotta tell you, Alex. I've loved these past couple days getting to know you. I really don't want to walk out of here and never see you again."

"I don't have much work between now and New Year," Alec replies, moving closer himself, his heart hammering in his chest for what Michael might be implying.

"See?" Michael says, smiling, and letting his eyes fall closed when Alex finally, _finally_ gets his fingers into his curls. "We won't be strangers by then at all."

"And you really probably shouldn't be driving yet; not after all that scotch."

Michael grins, pressing his face into Alex's wrist where he's still playing with his hair. "You're probably right."

There is a pause, a moment when they look at one another, when Alex sees a future that he never dreamed would be his to have. With _Michael_. Who he's barely known for five minutes, so he shouldn't be getting carried away with himself. But looking at Michael now, something settles in Alex's heart telling him that everything is going to be alright. _Perfect_, even.

Alex isn't sure who closes the gap between them, is barely aware of Winston's disgruntled grumble as he climbs from the couch. He does know Michael is warm pressed against him, and he is getting to know the shape of his mouth. This, Alex thinks, as Michael hauls him into his lap, might be his favorite Christmas Day ever.


End file.
